Nine Days
by Ekardnamal
Summary: AxB, shonen-ai. Pre-LABB case, when B was still at Wammy's. A and B take a break from their studies and attempt to relax at a local café. Some angst near the end. “I didn’t know it was your table. It’s laid for a great many more than three.”


**Author's Note:** An attempt at fluff that turned out a lot more angsty in the end than I had intended. It's dialogue-heavy in spurts.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Death Note: Another Note_, or any of the quotes from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._

**Nine Days  
**

"A. None of this is doing you any good," B noted from his comfortable place lying on the bed. It was about nine o'clock p.m., and he was jotting down notes for an essay in a workbook in front of him. He could have easily worked in his own room, but the need for company had driven B into A's living space approximately an hour and a half ago. Other than the initial greeting when he had entered, next to nothing had been said between them.

A forced his eyes away from the pages in which he was immersed in. He bit his lip and sighed. "Yeah. I can't concentrate anymore. If I have another coffee, I'll be up until three and that won't help the Physics test I have tomorrow. But I need to get this assignment done before Sunday. Not to mention the case I still have to finish."

"It's only Thursday. You have a lead for the case, don't you?"

"Yes, but it's going to take a while to organize everything properly."

"You have the afternoon off tomorrow, right?"

"I do."

"You need to take a break. You haven't been sleeping well, and you've been looking ill. Go take a trip outside the House. You may get some inspiration for that project of yours."

"…Fine. You're right, Beyond."

The next afternoon, B found A hiding away in a modest little café. Not many people were around, and what few there were added to the relaxed atmosphere. As B walked up behind A, he noted with displeasure the paper in front of the young man and also the pen in his hand. So B stole both.

"What are you–! Oh. B. Hello," A hastily greeted.

"I thought I told you not to work. The whole point of taking a break is to relax. You can't do that as you are."

"I'm waiting for the server to come around. I just got here."

"I know. I saw you leave the grounds." B set the notes down on one of the spare chairs, while he occupied another.

A adjusted his jacket's position on the chair behind him, and rolled back his olive sweater-sleeves. "That wasn't nice, B. It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited."

"I didn't know it was _your_ table. It's laid for a great many more than three." B was trying not to smile as he spoke, but couldn't resist when he saw that expression show up on A's face first.

"I see you've been reading again, Alice."

"Ah, well, I do enjoy it. You should start reading for leisure as well, Absolute."

"If I can find the time to," A mourned. When the server came around to the pair, A ordered chocolate tea for himself.

B's eyes widened with enthusiasm. "They have chocolate tea here?"

"Mm."

"I'll have some too, then. And half a dozen Empire cookies," he gestured towards the snack-counter that he had passed by on the way in.

The woman left, and A rested his head in his arms. B understood that the work left him exhausted. The circles under his own eyes were bad enough without having to see them reflected in A's face. The other man was losing weight; becoming closer to matching B's frail figure. Just wasting away. With his head buried in books, A couldn't see it.

B shifted closer and put a hand into A's cinnamon hair. After hearing a pleased sound, B traced his fingertips in circles to give his companion a calming massage. "I worry about you."

A cobalt eye stared upwards at the speaker. "There's nothing to worry about, B. I'm fine."

"You're not fine if you keep pushing yourself like this."

"What's a bit of hard work going to do? I'll be done my studies soon. Then I can focus on my cases. I'm okay, B. But I do appreciate your concern."

The grip on A's hair tightened, though not enough to hurt. "I hate seeing you suffer. You look terrible," B informed him.

A slowly sat up, lifting B's hand off his head. "I'll look after myself better, I promise. If it would make you happy."

"It would. Thank you," he said to A, and then again to the waitress when she brought them their cookies and tea. One of the former was devoured within moments of it being set on the table. B took another and sunk happily into his chair. "Mm, delicious. Want one?"

A took one, nibbling on it slowly so as to make it last. "This _is_ good," he remarked. Upon noticing that B was copying his motions, he couldn't resist a smile. "You look just like L over there."

B positively beamed. A had noticed how his habits were changing. Eating things delicately made them last for longer and prevented a person from eating too much. Too much sugar all at once could overload one's system and make them ill. B had realized the wisdom in L's mannerisms, and was slowly turning them into his own. "Thank you, A."

Both of them took a look around the café, the previously sombre mood all but lifted. A few more people had joined them in the last couple of minutes. Normal people – perfectly sane, perfectly naïve to the pair of genius orphans from the old inventor's place sitting in their midst. Unaware of those sets of red and blue eyes watching and judging. Detectives, or detectives-in-training, had a natural tendency to be suspicious of everyone. A especially, when he had been so immersed in his casework that he was beginning to believe anyone could be capable of murder. Yet B knew better, for his eyes told him that most of these people would be living well into their old age. For the ones who weren't, work accidents or illness would likely be the cause.

"B."

"Hm?" He answered with his teeth around the edge of the cookie.

"Do you ever get the feeling that you're being watched?"

"Of course. The teachers need to keep an eye on us, in case we try something reckless."

"No. By everyone. Even here. Like someone here means me harm."

"That's your paranoia speaking, A. Nobody here is going to hurt you."

"How can you know that?" A looked around himself hurriedly, trying to disguise the gesture by fixing his scarf.

B set down the remaining third of the cookie, reclined in his seat, and took a languid look around. After a little while of deep thought, he pointed to the waitress who had served them. "She has sixty-three years left." B turned his head towards an older man alone with his coffee. "He, eeHeighteen. But _she_," the dark-clad man gestured to a woman with a friend, her belly grown large with pregnancy, "has two months and sixteen days."

A set his mug down, startled. "Childbirth?"

B nodded, his face perfectly stoic. "Almost certainly. Unless she's going to have some tragic accident close to her delivery date."

"…What does it say about the baby?"

"The eyes don't work like that. I always see a name _and_ a lifespan. Because the baby has no name yet, I see nothing." A's face of concern could not be hidden from any normal person, yet alone one as perceptive as B. "Why, are you wondering what will become of the baby?" He added.

"Yes."

"Understandable."

"B?"

"Hm?"

"What does it say about…?"

"You know I can't tell you, A."

"I know you can't." A drained the rest of his cup, the chocolate tea remaining bittersweet in his mouth. He poured himself another.

"…Nine days."

"What?"

B clarified. "The young man behind you. He has nine days."

A spun around, as if to check that there really was someone there. The person in question was a teenager, youthful; invincible. A stared until the man seemed to notice, then quickly tore his eyes away. "That's… honestly a pity."

His companion said nothing, only hid his face behind his teacup. That was enough warning that A was going to get. B couldn't tell him outright of his impending fate, lest he ensure or even hasten it. A would never be murdered, not at Wammy's House. Killing off their main competition would earn anyone immediate expulsion from the place if they were careless enough to leave evidence behind. If they didn't, they would nonetheless be watched.

No. The scarf around A's neck, innocent as it was, had been tormenting B from the moment he had first seen it on him. A symbol of A's death, and almost certainly of the method with which he would bring it about. Once dead, he would cease to exist. Any hopes that B still had of A's survival were remote. The numbers had never before been wrong.

A was going to break down in less than a fortnight. And B, he truthfully didn't know what was going to become of himself afterwards.

"…Beyond?"

B looked up, biting down hard on his tongue to keep from revealing anything that he shouldn't.

"You look upset. It will be okay."

"…I really hope so."

A's following kiss, however tender, was going to offer little more than temporary comfort. Absolute would keep working himself to death, Backup would keep watching, and the grains of hourglass-sand would keep falling.


End file.
